My pelvic floor has hit the basement

When I was little and we got the giggles in ballet class, the teacher told one of the big girls off for saying we had laughed so hard that we “literally hosed ourselves”.
We hadn’t, obviously.
But then we hadn’t had sex, been pregnant, given birth to children, or had hysterectomies yet either. Nowadays, one in four of us probably do “literally hose ourselves” every time we get the giggles. It kind of robs the joy out of life. We also hose ourselves if we try to sneeze and walk at the same time, or if we shout at our offspring, the very offspring who popped our poor bladders into our vaginas when the ingrates were in utero, ever after rendering us vaguely incontinent, then adding to the mortification by demanding we jump on the trampoline.

Oh, that'd be nice...

Jump? God knows, even dancing is getting embarrassing. Perhaps that’s why so few gals over 30 are found in night clubs: it’s not that we’re too tired, but that we’re scared of piddling a little while in the clutches of the boogie-monster. No one wants to be the old lady in the night club smelling faintly of wee and broken biscuits.
And as for exercise, if another gym bunny yells “cardio” at me I’ll scream. That’s why all my workout sweatpants are black. You try jogging with your bladder dripping every step you take. You try the step machine when every ten strides needs a change of knickers and a change of gyms too due to the sheer shame of it all. One optimistic bunny insisted we go outside to do some leapy little sidesteps. Did I say leapy? Should have said leaky…
“You obviously never did your pelvic floor exercises,” she said haughtily.
“I’m doing them as we speak,” I snarled back. I’ve been doing them ever since I gave birth at the age of 19, and then again at 27, and all the way through that second pregnancy, particularly after staying with a physiotherapist aunt who reminded me constantly, saying I’d be sorry if I didn’t.
A friend with four children of her own said memories of me post-birth had ensured she still does her own merry Kegels every day — she recalled how every time I stopped at a red traffic light I’d shout “Pelvic floors, ladies”, and we’d all start squeezing. I did it at traffic lights when on my own too, and sometimes I even did it at green lights for good measure. I did it, oh yes, and I still do

But for what? To be in my thirties and unable to run, or jump, or even dance with any feeling? To be terrified of tickling contests with my bloke or playful rugby tackles and bear hugs from my boys?
I never spoke about it because how could I? I didn’t want to tell the people I love that sudden movement makes me wet myself. I’d rather be on a pedestal than in the litterbox, and what woman wouldn’t?
I finally mentioned it to my doctor who said “pelvic floor exercises” then looked at me knowingly when I protested that I did, that I do, that I can (sort-of) stop my urine mid-flow so I know I’m pulling the right muscles. “Keep practising,” she said very unhelpfully, because if 20 years of traffic light Kegeling ain’t helped yet, then it ain’t going to, frankly.

The forecast is wet.

So I looked into it, and that’s when I discovered the one-in-four figure and realised I was not all alone in a corner with the old ladies, air freshener and a maxi-bag of incontinence pads. No, instead I am in the esteemed company of numerous mothers — whether they’d given birth by Caesarian or naturally, because it’s the hefty baby in the womb that juggles the bits down below. I am also in the company of hysterectomy patients, prolapse sufferers, and both overweight people and serious sportswomen (it’s the bouncing again, the hardcore gym-bunny bouncing!).
It seems to be a flaw in the very design and manufacture of women, and a mortifying one at that. Are you listening, God, because I’m shaking my fist, gently though so as not to pee myself?
Apparently, tragically one of the main reasons old women end up in nursing homes is incontinence.

But is it actually fixable? I don’t know. I know you can have an operation. I know it’s not always successful, and if it fails it’s not easily repeatable. I know online there are countless pelvic floor toners. I know they offer results in anything from two to twelve weeks. I know I bought one based on positive reviews, and it arrived on Monday, all parcelled up in surreptitious brown paper. I know it takes batteries and comes with a probe and now I know it makes me squeak if I set the power too high.
Yes, I am trying to fix my fanny by electrocuting it.
Bet that made everyone squeeze the old pelvic floor…
I’ll let you know how it goes, or maybe you’ll just hear my whoops of joy as a bounce ever higher on the trampoline.

32 Responses

Tell me about it! Just thought u b interested to know that the pelvic floors r one of the few parts of the human anatomy that failed to evolve. Apparently their weakness because they designed for us being on all fours?? A physio told me & by way, know someone that got that op’ & she is near religious about it:) it worked 100%

One in FOUR? Yikes.. add this to the list of reasons why I don’t ever want to have kids. The electrocution device sounds terrifying. Best of luck with it though, and may there be no enormous incontinence pads in your future!

One in four? Boo! I had a period just after Jordan was born where I was terrified of coughing, it’s so unpleasant. I too am waiting to see if this helps, Jennie, fingers crossed that it brings you relief and you can bounce with abandon!

Great post Jennie. I’m one of the furtunate 3 (so far). I had 2 sections (not too posh to push or anything like it – two emergencies but all fine) and always assumed that I would escape the weeing bit but was also told that it makes little difference as it’s carrying the baby that causes the problem.

My mum (hope she’s not reading) was not so lucky and suffered in silence for years before finally confessing to her GP. She’s on medication which seems to work well.

My doctor once told me – when I was asking him about what I could do about serial bladder infections – that if an engineer had designed a woman’s body, he couldn’t have done a worse job and would have been sued.
Good luck with the device. I think there was an article about someone using one in the Sunday Times Style mag a few weeks ago. It sounds odd but if it works, go for it!

I remember a friend telling me that her mum said after you have kids, you can never go on a trampoline happily again. I hope you get to bounce joyfully once more at some stage!

Actually, I knew I’d read something about this recently and I just found it in a magazine from a pile I need to donate to the local doctor’s waiting room. The best medical procedure is apparently the tension-free vaginal tape (what a charming name) and the trans-obturator tape, and they both lift the urethra to stop the bladder leaking. They’re both available on the NHS in the UK, and are viewed as effective and safe, though apparently if you have one you can’t deliver a baby vaginally afterwards. Apparently the success rate is about 90%. I presume they’re also available on this side of the Irish sea, if anyone’s interested in investigating…

Thanks for this Jennie and good luck with the gadget.
I’ve had 3 kids and my pelvic floor is in good nick. I don’t do my kegels as much as I should but it shouldn’t put anyone off having kids. All mine were normal deliveries and one was even forceps. And I’ve been stitched up like a quilt so, logically, down there should be v weak. It’s not though. Keep those PF exercises going ladies – it’s not all bad news.

I’m in my early – mid 20s and I’ve always had a borderline ‘fear’ of giving birth. When I watch programmes where women are giving birth I have to change the channel. It worries me about how I’ll cope when/if I actually have children. I’ve never heard anyone talk about this – I suppose its a mostly irrational fear but I can’t seem to put it out of my head.

Jennie, really well done on writing this post. As another member of the ‘one in four club’ I have to admire your honesty and bravery in highlighting this problem. My pelvic floor has never recovered since the birth of my 9lb 6oz first child. How I laughed when well meaning midwives and health visitors encouraged me to do my pelvic floor exercises. And what pelvic floor would that be then? I wondered, having lost all feeling in that area. The feeling did not return for weeks after the birth, to the extent that I could not even feel when I had a full bladder and actually weed on the seat in the doctor’s surgery when I went for a post-natal visit. Twelve years on, I still need to wear pads when exercising and the kids trampoline is a definite no-go area.

At my daughter’s Irish dancing feis last weekend, there was an impromptu competition for Mammies at the end. As the few brave volunteers jigged their way across the stage, my only thought was ‘How can they do that without making puddles on the floor?’

Oh indeed, misery certainly loves company, and I feel so much better knowing I’m not alone. Thanks so much for all your lovely posts, and I’m delighted to be considered brave. Fact is, I was (am) mortified, but also fed up.
It’s truly heart-breaking being the mummy who “doesn’t do that” (especially reading Catherine’s comment) and this is certainly a dirty-secret topic that gets little of the mainstream attention other medical issues get. Doctors can be very dismissive…
As Anna pointed out, there are treatments, and as Claire said, she has first-hand knowledge that they can be a mighty success.
For me, for now, I shall persevere with my wee gadget (accidental pun! Snarf!) for 12 weeks. I’ve put a reminder into my phone and 12 weeks from the date I started I am taking myself into the back garden and I am test-driving this battered pelvis on child’s trampoline. I’ll certainly let ya’all know how it goes.

ps. Sinead, re buying things over the internet, I found my pelvic floor exerciser online but called the company in England to order it so I could ask some questions: they were absolutely lovely on the phone, very supportive and full of advice. It cost me a whopping £120 or so, but if it works it’ll be worth it. Maybe then I can then sell it on eBay, ha-ha…

Sarchoidosis brought with it stress incontinence…. it was worse than the sarchoid really (and that was hell) and when i asked for help from the consultant he mentioned pelvic floor and then moved on as he ‘didn’t know much more about it’ not his area blah blah blah…

I now am working with people who’s continence or lack of is used against them in terms of their capacity to live their lives as they wish. Enforced catherisation to suit carers or save on personal assistant hours is a human rights issue ‘we’ don’t talk about, the use of terms like nappies instead of pads, the regular verbal abuse/bullying of adults who want to do things a certain way to avoid embarrassment – but the nurse always knows best seemingly. And then there is the battle to get the things one needs to maintain a quality of life.

Oh, and another URGENT PS. Childless women, if you intend having kids don’t let this put you off, please! Childbirth ain’t as bad as telly makes it look cos there are DRUGS, yippeee, and the amazing thing is that it’s a pain with a gain: at the end you get yer very own mini-me and it all feels worth it.
Re the pelvic floor going, if it happens to you (only a 25 percent chance really) then get help. Don’t leave it 13 years like I did. And do those Kegels. Right now. I am!

Thanks so much for writing about this, one of the great taboos, and it’s one of my personal missions to talk about it so that people know it’s not just them. (So much so that my 15 year old cousin said I should go to her school instead of the contraception talk!)

I’m in the club too- I suffered damage after the birth of my first baby, all ten and a half pounds of him. Three days after his delivery by forceps I stood in my hospital room after feeding him and it was like my waters had opened. I bawled crying and felt like an animal. The lovely nurse gave me a hug, mopped up my puddle and booked a physio appointment for me.

I went for physio and used physio machines with probes (possibly the one that you are talking about) and it definitely helped, but it feels horrible (psychologically) using it, the covering it with KY jelly and inserting it while spreadeagled. I gave up using it for a bit (what a waste of 200 euro) and then as soon as I got a bad cold I had to buy incontinence pads, then took it out, used it three days and found out I was pregnant again, so it went back into the attic and I bought more pads.

So here I am with a six month old baby, back at physio and doing my kegels again. Interesting though, my new physio only recommends the machines if there is no muscle tone there at all, maybe its that I am getting in there early enough with the muscles still repairing. She also advises against clenching as tight as you can when doing the exercises (in my case I end up tensing up my whole body and making a very funny face)- she says to squeeze as tightly as you can while still breathing or being able to chat- because the muscle is an endurance muscle not a performance muscle. I like the logic and am trying to do the exercises this new way now.

I am determined to overcome this. Determined.

Let us know how you get on, and a huge thanks for bringing this out in the open. (and remember to claim on your MED1 form for the machine)

Oh, Jennie, thank you for saying this up front and unashamedly! My post-baby damage is different – a kicked-in stomach that doesn’t hold much in if I lean over too quickly, and a chunk of muscle missing which would normally complete my anal sphincter. Oops. But I know the shame of not talking about the bits that don’t work, all the while knowing that half the women you’re chatting blithely too probably have their own stories. So well done for getting us all out here talking about it – it’s a start! And I hope your gadget does the trick .

Kate! That sounds horrific. You poor dear girl… Are they able to treat you?
You reminded me of stories about women in central Africa who give birth with no medical care and then are left with terrible tearing and bladder/ anal problems as well as fistulas, so much so that they’re ostracised from their villages because they’re leaking all the time. A team of doctors from some charity (can’t remember which one) go over to stitch them up and sort them out. They say it’s so simple to fix with the right technology. It’s dreadful how women suffer in silence and shame for something that is no fault of our own.
Hang in there, and PLEASE let us know what the medicoes are planning for you. I hope you get your miracle.

Thanks for addressing this topic Jennie, it’s good to get these whispered about wimmin’s problems out in the open. Add me to the terror-of-pregnancy-and-birth club. I’m just barely getting comfortable in my own skin in my early thirties and fear putting myself through processes that stretch and pull at it!

Anyhoo, apparently there are exercises beyond Kegels that strengthen the pelvic floor. I started Callanetics a few months ago and have found a big change *ahem* *gestures wildly* down there. This is gross and TMI but Mr. Saoirse enthusiastically concurs. As an exercise regime is a bit embarrassingly retro (google it and a lot of big hair and spandex appears) but I’ve found it worked quite quickly. You can buy dvds from ebay or Amazon for very little and there are video segments on YouTube

Thanks Saoirse.
My English friend is currently living in the South of France and is pregnant. Here’s what she says:
“they’re rather neurotic, tests every three weeks, not like the good old NHS…. Anyway, I’m quite excited about motherhood, despite the bulge it leaves in its wake – do you know in France they send a fitness instructor to your house, for free, to get your waistline back in shape after the birth! How French…”
Presumably they’ll shout at her about her pelvic floor too.
Oh, and I remember Callanetics so well! Callan Pinkney (I think) and her enormous hair. Brilliant!

More information on incontinence, symptoms, therapies and treatments can be found at http://www.nafc.org. The National Association for Continence is the world’s largest and most prolific consumer advocacy organization dedicated to public education and awareness about bladder and bowel control problems, voiding dysfunction including retention, nocturia and bedwetting, and pelvic floor disorders such as prolapse.